


Take Your Granddad To Work (and then kill him) Day

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: 9.4.19, Comfort, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Some classic husbandy comfort ;), Which means distracting Aaron with sex, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: After the disastrous day, Aaron is ready to kill. Robert comforts and then distracts him the best way he knows how. Episode coda to 9.4.19.





	Take Your Granddad To Work (and then kill him) Day

Aaron made a beeline for Robert as soon as he walked through the door, crossing wordlessly over to where he stood against the kitchen counter in the process of opening a beer. He face-planted into his shoulder with a groan, determined to try and quash his simmering anger and irritation with the smell of Robert’s cologne and the lavender fabric softener he’d used on his shirt. 

It was good to be home. Finally.

“What, no, ‘Hello, Robert, how was your day?’“ Robert chuckled above him, his free hand coming to rest on the centre of Aaron’s back. 

Aaron groaned again. “D’ya still not mind if I kill ‘im?” he asked, his voice muffled by Robert’s shirt. One hand had come up to rest on his waist, the feeling of the material and the solidity of his husband’s body calming him somewhat. 

“Who?” Robert asked.

“ _Bear,_ ” Aaron seethed. “I want ta kill ‘him with a scrap metal crusher.”

“Uh-oh,” Robert said, pressing a light kiss to Aaron’s temple. “I take it that Take Your Granddad To Work day didn’t go so well, then?”

“Are you kidding me? He cost me at least three hundred quid, and possibly a lot more, all because he thinks he knows everything about everything! Which, by the way, he doesn’t, because ‘e’s an’ old has-been who doesn’t get that we’re in the twenty-first century and also, that I own that scrapyard and I know what’s best for it! He’s drivin’ me mad!”

Robert made a sympathetic noise, rubbing up and down Aaron’s back in slow, soothing movements. “Sorry you got stuck with ‘im. If I’d’ve been there...”

“You would’ve dumped him in the crusher yourself,” Aaron said, “ _and_ I would’ve helped ya.”

Robert laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “I’d rather us  _not_  be arrested for murder, thanks. Even if it’s for a good cause.”

“Yeah, my  _sanity_ ,” Aaron huffed. “Seriously, Rob...”

He pulled away, keeping his arms wrapped around his husband’s waist. He was still agitated, and fuming about the money he’d missed out on, and he knew Robert could feel it in the lines of his body because he put his unopened can on the countertop behind him, splaying his hands wide over Aaron’s back and pulling him in, tucking his chin on top of his head. He swayed gently with him in his arms. “How can I take your mind off of things?”

“Uh, give me an axe and a massive log I can chop up into pieces while I imagine that it’s Bear’s head?” Aaron suggested. 

“Or,” Robert countered, pressing his lips to Aaron’s hair, “we could crack open a couple of cans...or some wine....” this time he kissed his forehead,  his voice dipping lower, “take them up to bed, have a bit of fun before Liv comes home,” a kiss to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, “give you something else to put all this pent-up energy into...” 

And his hands found Aaron’s arse, massaging it in his palms, as his lips attached themselves to his neck, sucking soft, warm kisses there that made Aaron’s eyes roll back into his head, his knees watery like jelly. 

He’d always had a weak spot on his neck. Robert knew that.

“Bastard,” he mumbled, groaning as Robert’s hands roamed, “but I’ll give ya credit for your distraction skills.”

“Less talking,” Robert commanded. “And follow me upstairs. Bring the beers.”

“God, yes,” Aaron gasped into Robert’s mouth on a slow, dirty kiss. 

Then he was pulling away and heading for the stairs, and Aaron nearly tripped over his own feet to grab the drinks and follow him, his body hot and his jeans too tight, the day’s disaster almost completely forgotten with the promise of his husband’s mouth exactly where he wanted it.

_Bear who?_


End file.
